


Baby Steps

by ButterbeerandMooncakes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Female Reader, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-11-15 03:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20859530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterbeerandMooncakes/pseuds/ButterbeerandMooncakes
Summary: Two souls were united in matrimony that day, but three hearts were broken.Alternatively: You and Kyungsoo fall in love and get married, but not necessarily in that order.*Narrated in snippets*





	1. Prologue

_You married Kyungsoo on a soft autumn morning._

_The stained-glass windows of the church let in muted sunrays, bathing the interior in a warm, golden glow. No expense had been spared for the wedding; swathes of white silk were draped over columns and hung from arches. The pews were resplendent with gardenia arrangements, and the heady fragrance of the flowers filled the air. But no charms could compare to that of the bride and the groom standing at the altar, both of whom were young and beautiful. It almost seemed like a match made in heaven, instead of the boardroom it had actually taken place in._

_A hush hung over the audience as the priest murmured words on love and companionship, save for the occasional sniffle from your mother. Later, you would wonder why the ceremony had seemed so moving when there was a distinct lack of elation in the air. Was pain that much more beautiful than joy?_

_By the time the ring-bearer’s foot had nearly fallen asleep, the moment arrived for the “I do”s to be said. And said, they were, albeit with a heaviness that seemed to convey the opposite. A perfunctory kiss followed, and the ceremony was over to jubilant exclamations. With bright smiles and dead eyes as your response to the congratulations, you and Kyungsoo walked back down the aisle, arm in arm, man and wife. _

_Two souls were united in matrimony that day, but three hearts were broken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And if you did, a review wouldn't hurt ;) This is my first fic ever, so please be nice.


	2. The Name

“Would you like a cup of cocoa, Mrs. Do?”

Yuna’s sweet voice rings in the stillness of your bedroom. You stop your perusal of the shrubbery outside your window – it’s dry, but that is to be expected in the dead of winter – and turn to smile gratefully at the girl. She was the newest and youngest addition to the household staff, consequently becoming everyone’s favourite with her cheerful mannerisms. “That sounds lovely, Yuna, thank you.”

She exits the room after a small bow, and you glance down at the forgotten book in your lap. _Pride and Prejudice. _It’s an old favourite of yours, as evidenced by the countless creases in the spine. Every winter, as a matter of ritual, you pick it up and reread it, finding new things to see with each year that passes. A smile tugs at your lips and you place the bookmark inside before rising to go to the window. Soft flakes of snow have started falling, adorning the bushes, and your smile fades.

Kyungsoo isn’t home yet.

Then again, he rarely ever is when you’re awake. The interactions between you two are formal and limited to gala appearances or the accidental run-in when he stays at home for longer than eight hours. Yet, you can’t help the ball of worry tightening in your chest; snowy roads are never safe. Would he be fine? His driver, Minseok, was very reliable, but…

Just then, you hear the front door opening with a loud bang, followed by men’s voices. _Was that Kyungsoo?_ Hurriedly wrapping your shawl tighter around your bare shoulders – what possessed you to wear a nightgown in winter? – you reach the top of the marble staircase. The unexpected spectacle in the foyer makes you pause.

A heavily drunk Kyungsoo had staggered in, supported by Minseok and another man. Upon closer inspection, you realise it is Park Chanyeol, Kyungsoo’s friend and the best man at your wedding. Despite both men being strong, they can barely hold up your husband, who does little except stare around with bleary, bloodshot eyes. Minseok is the first to notice your presence, wincing a little as he takes in your shocked face.

“Mrs. Do, I’m very sorry if we woke you up-“

You wave off his apologies, slowly descending the stairs. In the five months you had been married, not once did you see Kyungsoo drunk like this. “I wasn’t sleeping. How many drinks has he had?” The question is directed at Chanyeol, who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh…many?”

You repress a sigh, still nonplussed. It would be unfair to make the man more uncomfortable, especially when he’d brought Kyungsoo back so late. “Thank you for bringing him home, Chanyeol. I’ll take it from here.” You don’t give him a chance to protest, looping Kyungsoo’s arm around your shoulders instead. Instantly, you are hit by the overwhelming stench of alcohol. Your stomach churns and you bite back a gag. _What made him drink like this?_

Shaking your head at the servants that scuttle forward to help, you and Minseok begin your slow trudge to Kyungsoo’s bedroom. Your shawl slips off your shoulder, and your husband almost follows suit before you readjust your grip on him. The new position causes his head to loll onto your shoulder, his breath hot on your neck. Suddenly, the house feels extremely warm, almost as warm as your cheeks.

“Mrs. Do, I can take him up myself if it’s uncomfortable for you,” Minseok tries, his eyes meeting yours over the top of Kyungsoo’s head. You open your mouth to reply, when your husband interjects for you in a scratchy mumble.

“_Yeon Hee.”_

You freeze, body going cold once again. Your husband nuzzles obliviously into your neck, muttering the name again. Minseok’s face blanches as you continue to stare at him, stunned into stillness. The tender, caressing whisper of that name, not your name, continued to drop from Kyungsoo’s mouth in a cruel litany. With each enunciation, you felt a crack grow farther into your heart.

“We’re almost there,” you finally reply. For once, you are immeasurably grateful for your childhood poise lessons; they let you speak in a steady voice. You hate the understanding, the pity you see in Minseok’s eyes as you look away and begin dragging Kyungsoo along again. _Chin up, one foot in front of the other._ _Ladies are always graceful; ladies do not show their emotions._

Mercifully, the bedroom door is a mere ten steps away. The two of you deposit Kyungsoo on the bed, a grunt passing his lips as he hits the mattress. The feeling of his lips still ghosts over your neck, and you rub the area subconsciously. The first time he touches you as your husband is when he’s too drunk to realise it’s you.

You clear your throat. “Thank you so much for the help, Minseok. Please ask one of the maids to prepare a room for Chanyeol. It’s too late for him to go home by him-“ Your voice wobbles and you pinch the bridge of your nose. At least the darkness won’t let him see the traitorous tears in your eyes.

“I understand, Mrs. Do. Have a good night.” Minseok smoothly bows out, politely ignoring your state. No wonder Kyungsoo likes him – discreetness is valued in the staff who see your most vulnerable sides. The door clicks shut, and you look back at your prone husband.

The moonlight casts his sleeping face in shadows. His charcoal eyelashes brush against his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth is soft, inviting. It doesn’t look like a mouth that crushes hearts with a single word. In sleep, he is heartbreakingly innocent.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you sit by his bedside to pull his shoes off. _Wristwatch, tie, jacket_. You follow the same routine you always did for your brother – Junmyeon can never handle his liquor well – and tuck him under the covers. “Sleep well, Kyungsoo,” you whisper to him before leaving his stifling room to escape to the safety of yours. Tomorrow morning, you will give Yuna instructions to leave hangover drinks and fruit by his bedside. Tomorrow morning, you will smile at Minseok and give him chocolates to take home to his young daughter. Tomorrow morning, you will be the composed, perfect Mrs. Do who never heard her husband call for another girl. Tomorrow morning.

But tonight, you give yourself the luxury to sob your heart out on your bedroom floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And to those of you who caught it, Yeon Hee is indeed a reference to Exo Next Door because we stan the good stuff.


	3. Falling for Do Kyungsoo

For as long as you had known Kyungsoo, you had been in love with him.

Your engagement contract had been signed in the winter after your 8th birthday. That Christmas, you met your fiancé for the first time. Even at 10 years of age, Kyungsoo was a refined, soft-spoken boy that adults loved cooing over. His huge eyes were the colour of dark chocolate and his rare smile made his lips curl into a heart. Privately, you decided that even Junmyeon, in all his glory at 12 years old, did not hold a candle to Kyungsoo. This awe and the knowledge that he was to be your husband was all you needed to fall head over heels for him with all the innocence and abandon of a little girl. It had not mattered then that Kyungsoo treated you with distant politeness, or that he avoided one-on-one interactions with you, preferring Junmyeon’s company instead. All that mattered was that he would be your fairytale prince someday, taking you away from your strict parents to a world full of the exciting unknown.

It wasn’t like you saw much of him over the next several years. At 11, Kyungsoo left for a boarding school in Switzerland. You followed suit soon, joining Junmyeon at a co-ed establishment in London. If you were lucky, you would meet him at an occasional Christmas dinner between the two families and exchange pleasantries. A bow, a comment on the weather and a perfunctory enquiry about your studies was the most you could get out of him, but it never disheartened you. There would be plenty of time to fall in love after getting married.

Your school years were perhaps the happiest of your life. Far away from the stifling control of your parents, you made friends that would help you to break free. Your roommate Yuqi taught you to laugh until your stomach hurt, even if it was unladylike. Your senior Wendy taught you to speak your mind, even if it meant being too assertive. Your classmate Lisa taught you to dance like a maniac, even if it meant ruining your perfect posture. Never before – and never after – had you ever found that kind of freedom.

The freedom was also what spurred your brief romance with Kim Jongin in your final year. A tall, charismatic junior with a chiseled jawline, Jongin was your practice partner for tennis. He may have been a year younger to you, but it did not stop your heartbeat from faltering whenever he smirked at you after a particularly good move. Sometime along the way, the looks from across the court were replaced by tentative touches. That entire summer was a memory of hazy afternoons lying on the tennis court, of slow, hot kisses that tasted like lemonade and sunshine. You had both known that it wouldn’t last, that graduation would be your last day together. But Jongin’s sad smile as you parted, and his whispered “maybe in another life”, left a dull ache somewhere in your chest.

Returning to Korea had been difficult. Without your friends to support you, the pressure of your parents forced you back behind your impassive façade. Junmyeon did his best in his own way, taking you out for lunches and cracking dad jokes in an effort to make you smile. It only made you feel worse, knowing that he had plenty on his own plate while grappling with his sexuality. But all of Junmyeon’s warmth could not make up for how cold your house felt, how the silence rang in your ears.

That Christmas, you met Kyungsoo again. He had not grown much taller, but the panes of his face had sharpened, and his impenetrable eyes (so unlike Jongin’s mirthful ones) were as steady as ever. His sharp gaze always gave the impression of undivided attention, and whenever it met yours, the background chatter seemed to fade, like you were the only two people in the room. That Christmas, you fell for Kyungsoo all over again, this time as a young woman. When your wedding date was fixed, you met the news with anticipation blooming in your chest.

Given your own fling with Jongin, you had never expected Kyungsoo to have abstained from relationships. The contract required you two to be faithful only after marriage; it did not matter if affairs happened prior to it, provided they were conducted discreetly. But you had not expected this to be thrown in your face the night before your wedding, when Kyungsoo had shown up unannounced on your doorstep, hands stuffed inside his pant pockets. A million thoughts had raced inside your head as you led him to a sitting room, scanning his troubled face for clues. It was after some fidgeting that Kyungsoo had said the words that were seared into your memory.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

It was absurd that six words could shatter the entire life you had pictured for yourself. You could only stare at him mutely, hands locked in your lap. He had continued after a pause, gaze unwavering on yours.

“I don’t mean to call off the wedding. I promise I’ll abide by the contract and remain faithful to you. All I ask is that you do not expect more from me and I shall do the same. I would like for us to have a cordial relationship, even if this marriage is not our choice.”

Questions had bubbled to your throat – ‘_Is that all this is?’ ‘A cordial relationship?’ _and more importantly _‘Who is she?’ _None of them passed your lips, however. You had simply swallowed, plastering a practiced smile on your face. “I understand. Thank you for informing me.” The same smile had made a reappearance at your wedding the next day, light and pretty. Its testament was the wedding photograph which hung over your fireplace mantle.

Perhaps, if you were lucky, you would stop loving Kyungsoo one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated. :)


	4. The Meeting

“…and we, at Do Enterprises, are firm believers in animal welfare.” Your husband’s voice, although low, carries over the soft instrumentals playing in the room. You stand at his arm, switching between smiling pleasantly at Kyungsoo’s conversation partner and glancing around the hall with studied disinterest. Galas didn’t faze you; you had been bred to be a socialite, after all, to be an asset to your future husband. Accompanying Kyungsoo to these events was something you had become used to very quickly, despite seeing very little of him at home. In fact, you two had become quite an efficient pair – you reeled in the people, and Kyungsoo pitched them his grand plans. It was the most useful you felt in your role as a wife.

“Definitely a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Do. I’ll be in touch,” you hear the older gentleman chuckle as he shakes your husband’s hand. You refocus your attention on him in time to accept his proffered hand, as well. “Mrs. Do, I believe my wife would love to meet you.”

“I’ll look forward to the next time, then,” you reply graciously, smiling as he takes his leave. Beside you, Kyungsoo’s posture relaxes a bit. You’ve realised that despite having pleasing manners, Kyungsoo is rather uneasy in social scenarios. It makes him a tiny bit human, you suppose, while resisting the urge to rub his arm comfortingly. _He won’t appreciate that._

“Kyungsoo, there you are!” A booming voice from behind jolts you, making you grip your champagne flute tighter. Spinning around you find that the culprit is none other than a grinning Byun Baekhyun, the Vice-President and resident clown of Do Enterprises. Kyungsoo takes the man’s appearance in stride (or perhaps he is simply desensitised by now), the harsh line of his mouth softening slightly.

“And the lovely Mrs. Do!” Baekhyun crows, grasping your empty hand to spin you around. Your dress flares around you, and a startled laugh escapes you. He steps back, stroking his chin in mock seriousness while appraising you. “But aren’t you too beautiful for our grumpy Soo here?”

It isn’t difficult to see why Baekhyun worms his way into everyone’s hearts, despite being obnoxiously loud. It took you a few meetings to get used to his antics, but now he is your favourite amongst Kyungsoo’s social circle. “I think the balance is covered by all the makeup I’m wearing, Baekhyun,” you laugh back, making the man’s eyes crinkle in amusement. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, shows no reaction to the exchange and you get the distinct impression that he wants to talk to Baekhyun alone.

“In fact,” you continue seamlessly, seeing an out, “I should probably go check on it now. I won’t be long.” With a small bow, you weave your way out of the crowd and towards the ladies’ room. The incessant murmur of the hall diminishes as you enter, only to be replaced by the mutterings of a young girl standing at the mirror.

“Get your head together, come on!” She exclaims to her reflection, hands held up to her cheeks. You eye her with mild amusement and some concern as you stand beside her, setting your flute down to retrieve your lipstick from your clutch.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise you came in!” She winces when she catches sight of you, a dark blush crawling up her forehead. You wave her off with a genuine smile, struck by how innocent and artless she looks. “That’s all right, you look like you’re having a hard enough time already.”

She groans (in agreement, you suppose), collapsing against the wall and burying her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t have come to this gala in the first place! I can’t handle seeing him and now I’m stuck in here, looking like a tomato! And I even had those strawberry dessert thingies and I’ll have to floss now!”

You chuckle and she peeks out at you from behind her fingers. “I’m sorry,” you say immediately, corners of your mouth turning down ruefully. “You’re just very refreshing.” She seems to grow shyer at your words, shrinking in further, so you change tactics. “Whom are you trying to avoid?”

Her hands drop to her sides, a peculiar expression flashing over her face. “Just…someone.” You watch her silently as she taps a frustrated rhythm across the marble countertop of the sink. “I- I knew he’d be here, and I tried to avoid coming, but Mr. Byun said he needed me to take notes when he talks to people, even though he never uses those notes and-“ she breaks off for air, face scrunched up in mortification.

“Are you Byun Baekhyun’s secretary?” You ask, reaching out tentatively to pat her back. She nods, frowning at the faucet.

“I know him. If you want, I can tell him that you have a stomach bug and need to go home,” you offer. Her eyes turn up to you, and you’re taken aback to see the pinpricks of tears there.

“You- you know my boss? And you’d do that?” She asks shakily, and it makes you just want to pat her curly head until she’s calm again. Her very aura screams a need for protection.

“He’s my husband’s friend, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s no trouble at all,” you reassure her. A watery smile crosses her features, and she grabs both your hands. “Thank you so much, Mrs.-“

“Do,” you supply. The one word drains Bathroom Girl’s face of all colour, and she releases your hands as if electrocuted. You blink in confusion at her as she squeaks out, “Mrs. Do.”

“Is everything okay?” You venture, making her take a step back. “You look unwell-”

“I’m fine,” she cuts you off hurriedly, grabbing up her purse. Her voice is breathless. “I just need to go, but thank you so much for offering to help.” With that, she practically sprints out of the ladies’ room.

“Wait!” You call out after her, abandoning your things to follow her out the door. But you stop in your tracks when Bathroom girl runs face-first into the chest of your husband, who is inexplicably outside the door. A tense moment passes- the girl raises her face to Kyungsoo’s, whose coal eyes turn impossibly soft and vulnerable as he grips her arms. The realization hits you a split second before Kyungsoo utters in a strained voice, “Ms. Yeon Hee.”

Each time that you get hurt, you console yourself with the thought that the worst is over - that it couldn’t possibly hurt more. But Kyungsoo finds newer and crueler ways each time. Not that he realises it; even now he remains caught up in Yeon Hee’s gaze, oblivious to his wife standing opposite him. It is only when Yeon Hee sputters that the spell seems to break, and he spots you in the doorway.

“I was waiting for you,” he says by way of explanation, letting go of Yeon Hee’s arms. She bows, not daring to look at either of you before scuttling away. You don’t miss the longing, almost desperate glance Kyungsoo throws her as she leaves. Clearing your throat, you smile back at him without a hint of the tears building up behind your eyes. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

Neither of you mention Yeon Hee again for the rest of the night. You pretend not to notice how quiet Kyungsoo becomes (even more so than usual). You both have your duties to fulfill, after all. By the time you are in the car once more, Minseok studying both your faces in the rearview mirror, you are exhausted.

(But you do not regret meeting Yeon Hee. For once, you got to see what your husband looked like in love.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love writing Baekhyun.


	5. Friends

_He was running. His breaths came out in short, laboured_ _ pants, his calves screaming in protest. But he could not stop. The black, ominous fog at his back was gaining on him. He cried out in frustration, willing his feet to move faster, but a smoky tendril was wrapping itself around his throat and he was screaming for someone to help him, to save him…._

“Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo, wake up!”

The repeated hushed exclamations of his name jerk him out of his slumber. A silhouette looms over him, and Kyungsoo’s dazed, half-asleep state makes him grab for the intruder. His left hand closes on a wrist – invoking a gasp that doesn’t register in his head – while the other fumbles for the bedside lamp. He’s foggily trying to remember the closest thing he has to a weapon on hand when the light switches on, illuminating the features of the person. It takes some squinting without his glasses on, but then it clicks. It’s you.

_Oh._

Your face is pale, your lips parted in surprise as you bend over him. Kyungsoo stares dumbly at your unexpected presence in his room before realising he is still holding your hand. He drops it limply, pushing himself into a sitting position as he tries to swallow past the fear still balled in his throat. “What- what are you doing here?” He asks, his voice still gravelly from the nightmare. It makes his words sound harsher than he intends them to, and catches you flinch a bit at the apparent reproach.

Kyungsoo decides he is an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, absent-mindedly rubbing at your wrist where Kyungsoo had grabbed it. “I was just…passing by your door and it sounded like you were in pain. The door was ajar,” you add hurriedly. Your eyes are lowered, you voice even, but discomfort is written into every line of your figure. “And when I came in, it looked like you were having a nightmare, so I woke you up. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

“You didn’t overstep.” _You are my wife, _Kyungsoo adds internally, but he knows the words are hollow. You two are married only in name. The fact sharpens his unease at you having witnessed him at his weakest moment. “Thank you for waking me up.” He goes to massage his temples, only to realise his forehead is dotted with cold sweat. In fact, his entire torso feels clammy, so he throws off the covers, having well forgotten that he wears no shirt to bed.

“That’s no problem- oh,” you stutter, and Kyungsoo frowns up at you in confusion. You aren’t one to trip over your words easily. But your eyes, darting from his face, to his chest and down to the carpet, clue him in – _shit – _and he clambers out of bed, avoiding looking at you. The deep flush creeping up his ears is embarrassing enough. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles before ducking into the safety of his dressing room, stubbing his toe on the doorframe in his haste.

He bites back the string of curses with much difficulty. You’ve heard enough yelling from him for the night.

A damp towel is enough to rid him of the clamminess. Now that he is out of bed and somewhat fresh, the cold air nips at him and he yanks on a t-shirt, as much for decency as for warmth. Kyungsoo feels much more collected now, much more prepared for the bizarre sight of his wife in his bedroom. But when he exits the dressing room, you are nowhere to be found. Only a hint of your perfume lingering in the air – _Moroccan rose with a darker edge…musk, maybe? – _proves that you had, indeed, been there and were not a mere figment of his imagination.

There is a twinge in his chest; he dislikes the thought of having scared you off after you were kind enough to check in on him. A tiny part of him is also…disappointed… that you disappeared so quickly. He’s been waking up from nightmares alone for such a long time that having someone wake him up felt… nice. He brushes off the feeling quickly. He is not close enough to you to expect that of you.

Kyungsoo sighs to himself as he puts his glasses on. He knows he won’t be getting much sleep tonight unless he downs some sleeping pills. A glass of cold water sounds like it’ll help his parched throat, too, so he meanders through the dark hallways, taking care not to bump into more stuff. His toe aches enough already. The sounds of clinking metal reach his ears as he nears the kitchen and Kyungsoo rounds the corner, eyes seeking the culprit.

_You again?_

You’re at the stove, your hair forming a sleek curtain around your face as you peer into the saucepan. It doesn’t take you long to spot him and you raise your head to give him a polite, if a touch awkward smile.

“Oh, hey. I was just making some hot chocolate for you,” you say promptly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Kyungsoo briefly wonders why you feel the need to explain your presence to him. Sure, he is mildly curious, but he wouldn’t question you about it. The kitchen is as much your as it is his. But the thought is overridden as your full sentence sinks in.

“For me?”

“Yeah, I thought it might help you sleep after your nightmare. It always works for me.” Your smile is softer now, more genuine. Kyungsoo blinks at you owlishly from behind his glasses, warmth blooming in his chest at the sweetness of the gesture. He hates sugary drinks, to be honest, and only drinks black coffee to stay up while working long nights. But he is loath to point that out. You, however, misinterpret his silence as displeasure, and he sees the switch flip in your demeanour as you backtrack.

“Ah, I should have asked you first. Sugar might just keep you up. I’m sorry.” You begin to remove the saucepan from the flame, but Kyungsoo steps forward quickly. “No, hot chocolate sounds good. You could…join me, too. If you want, that is.”

Your eyes are disbelieving as they meet his, but the corners of your lips tug upwards as you agree and turn back to the stove. Kyungsoo takes a seat at the kitchen table behind you but finds himself unable to look away from you. Your nightgown, a midnight-blue silk, hangs loosely from your frame and your hair is pushed off to one side, exposing your bare neck. All that mars the slender column is a tiny birthmark under your ear. There is a fragile loveliness to your movements which belies your strong will, and Kyungsoo thinks that perhaps you two could be friends someday.

The hot chocolate you hand him is sweet, rich, and creamy, the exact combination he detests, but he still sips at it with a smile of gratitude. He does not miss how the simple action makes your eyes twinkle a little brighter and makes sure to throw in a couple of more comments on how good it tastes. There is no other conversation; you do not ask him about his nightmare, and he does not ask why you were roaming the hallways at night. Kyungsoo likes this companionable silence that he does not get around Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who are more beagles than they are humans. When his mug is empty, Kyungsoo almost asks for a refill of the disgustingly sweet drink, just to sit there longer. Almost.

Instead, he rinses both your mugs and puts them away. He is debating how to call it a night (_a handshake would be too formal, for Christ’s sake, we’re married_), but you beat him to it with yet another smile, shyer this time, as you stand beside him by the sink. “I hope you sleep better this time round. And…if you ever need more hot chocolate or just…human company, I’m always here.”

Your words are almost girlish in their innocence, something Kyungsoo does not associate with your dignified conduct. You seem oddly vulnerable in the moment. He doesn’t realise that he is smiling, too, as he replies, “I might take you up on that.”

Kyungsoo carries the warmth of your merry eyes all the way to bed. Being friends with you sounds more and more appealing.


	6. Home

“…and if I hadn’t come home right then, you would’ve burnt the place down! All my stuff would be gone because of you!” Junmyeon accuses his boyfriend, his eyes widened in comical anger. You let out an unladylike snort of laughter, setting your fork down to peer over at the kitchen. “Wait, but you guys use induction, not gas...”

“Exactly!” Junmyeon’s voice is two octaves higher and you erupt into a fit of laughter at the absurdity of it all. “How can you set fire to food when there’s no fire in the first place?” By now, your stomach is hurting, propriety forgotten as your laughs echo off the walls. Ever since Junmyeon and his boyfriend moved in together, dinners at their apartment have become a weekly affair. And even though you don’t admit it, this makes Wednesdays your favourite day of the week.

Yixing, to his credit, is unfazed against Junmyeon’s discomposure. His dimples pop out as he smiles serenely, taking a swig of his chardonnay. “If you want, we can just try it again so you can note it down. For science.” Your brother lets out a disbelieving scoff, opening his mouth to launch into another tirade, but you are faster than him. You stuff his uneaten piece of garlic bread into his mouth, prompting him to cough around it and effectively shutting him up for the time being.

Yixing high-fives you.

“You two are unbelievable,” Junmyeon mutters once he’s managed to bite off the bread. You pay him no heed, knowing he’s just acting up to be funny. “My boyfriend and my sister are pyromaniacs. What have I done to deserve this…?”

“You’re gay. And gays should burn in the fires of Hell,” Yixing deadpans, taking a bite of his pasta. “Yeah, Yixing’s just shortening the process by burning you two himself, isn’t he? No need for outsourcing,” you chime in. Junmyeon shoots you a disgruntled look, but it softens when Yixing nudges him with a chuckle. Not for long, though, Yixing’s next words bringing his glare back with full force.

“Why isn’t your sense of humour more like your sister’s?”

“When did this dinner turn into Bullying-Junmyeon time?!” Your brother’s face is turning a fascinating shade of red. So is yours, for that matter, but from laughing. It takes nearly an hour for everyone to finish the meal because of the constant interludes of jokes, and contrary to Junmyeon’s complaint, they are not always at his expense. The oppressive loneliness of your mansion is nowhere to be found on Wednesday evenings, replaced by the bickering of the two men and the soft glow of the yellow lights Yixing loves. Returning home is the part you detest the most every time, and you put it off as long as you can without overstaying your welcome.

Even now, you stand at the full-length windows, the city skyline lights twinkling on the glass of chardonnay in your grasp. The men are over at the sink, doing the dishes, and you don’t need to look around to know that Junmyeon will occasionally bump their hips, or that Yixing will kiss his nape while manoeuvring to grab a dish. Your brother was never the type to indulge in displays of affection – too bound by propriety, like you – but that has all changed since meeting Zhang Yixing.

There has never been a doubt in your mind that the two have been the best thing to happen to each other, regardless of what the tabloids may say.

“Hey.” Junmyeon appears at your shoulder, drying his hands on a tea towel. “Why don’t you stay the night? Yixing doesn’t have much on tomorrow and I’ve got a late start. We can get the blankets and watch _That’s So Romantic._”

“The one with Rebel Wilson!” Yixing adds helpfully from the kitchen, dimples on full display. You absently wonder how much water those things can hold.

“I mean- I love Rebel Wilson as much as anyone else, but I don’t want to third-wheel on you guys-“

Junmyeon tsks, patting your head like you’re a puppy. “If we didn’t want you here, we wouldn’t ask.”

“Yeah, I have no problem asking people to leave.” Yixing grins at Junmyeon as he says this, probably referring to some inside joke. Strangely enough, it doesn’t make you feel left out. You love basking in their glow, seeing the utter ease and synchrony between the two. Theirs was a healthy, happy relationship, unlike your parents’ marriage (or your own).

“In that case, let’s make the popcorn,” you say, setting your glass down on the coffee table. Two enthusiastic “yeah”s follow while Junmyeon throws an arm around your shoulders and you rest your head on his chest, inhaling the familiar woodsy scent. Yixing calls out something about getting you pajamas and disappears. Your brother rests his head on yours, and there is a beat of silence.

“You’re always welcome here, you know. This is your home, too.”

You don’t know this. But you realise it’s true, when Yixing tosses you his clothes for the night, when you and Junmyeon fight for the cushions, when Yixing falls asleep halfway through the movie with his head in Junmyeon’s lap and his feet in yours. The tenderness in Junmyeon’s eyes as he brushes the hair off Yixing’s forehead is heartbreakingly sweet and it reminds you of the way Kyungsoo had looked at Yeonhee. As if giving the other person permission to rip your heart to shreds.

_What a thing love is_, is your last thought before you drift off to sleep.

\---

At that same moment, some miles away, a hesitant Kyungsoo lingers outside your bedroom door. He doesn’t expect you to be awake this late, but reminds himself that you had offered companionship anytime he needed it. It emboldens him to knock – once, twice – but you don’t open the door.

Kyungsoo retreats to his room in record time. _I’m an idiot._


	7. The Right Amount of Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was waiting for the next chapter, I am truly sorry for being so late in updating. Someone I was very close to passed away recently, and much of my time was spent recovering from that. But I am back and well now and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Spring is a magical time, bleeding warmth into trees and lives. You do not realise when your footsteps have become lighter, or when you have started humming tunelessly as you go about your tasks. The one time you run into Kyungsoo in the hallway as he’s leaving, you smile at him cheerfully enough to stop him in his tracks and watch you walk off in confusion. Even the household staff throws you occasional side glances, but you ignore it, knowing that there is no malice in it. It is spring, your chest is light, and the world may just be looking up again.

To add to your happiness, one morning, you reach the estate’s private tennis court to discover cherry blossom buds dotting the trees around it. Yuna, your regular tennis partner, is similarly delighted. She drops her racquet to clap enthusiastically, bouncing up and down.

“Look, Mrs. Do, the cherry blossoms! They’re so pretty! I didn’t know there were any on the estate!”

“I didn’t, either,” you reply fondly. Yuna may be eighteen, but she still has a childlike outlook that rouses your protective instincts. The girl knows it and uses it much to her advantage, wheedling small favours out of you with her big, puppy eyes. You can tell she is about to do the same now, when she sidles up to you, lips pulled into a pout.

“Mrs. Do, can I bring my little brother to see the cherry blossoms? He’ll love them so much.” She tugs on your sleeve and the mock-stern look on your face dissolves before it can fully form. Damn Yuna and her cuteness.

“You’re more than welcome to, Yuna.” An idea crosses your mind and you glance back up at the tree. “Actually, once you’ve shown him the flowers, can you pick some for me? I’d like to make my own brother a little gift.”

* * *

A few days later, the freshly picked blossoms lay on the kitchen counter as you peer over a bubbling saucepan. About half a dozen jars of sakura jam are lined up beside the petals. Each of them is a different batch, with small variations between them- one has a teaspoon of honey in it, another a sprinkling of brown sugar. But all the batches have been rejected by you.

When you and Junmyeon were children, you had an old housekeeper who made the finest sakura jam you had ever tasted. No matter how much the chef pleaded, she would never share the recipe with him, or anyone else, for that matter. Every spring, she would buy the first buds of cherry blossoms and hobble into the kitchen, shooing everyone out to and make the jam. And Junmyeon, the fussiest eater alive, would relish it the most of them all. The housekeeper had passed away while you two were in London, and to your knowledge, Junmyeon hadn’t touched sakura jam since.

You sigh to yourself as you remove the saucepan from the heat. The jam would have to be perfect for you to give it to Junmyeon. But no matter what combination you try, you cannot uncover the secret ingredient your housekeeper used. You gnaw on your lip as you rack your brain for more possible ingredients, completely lost in your thoughts.

Just then, a throat clears behind you.

You shriek and the saucepan slips from your hands, hitting the floor with a loud clang. Steaming hot syrup spills on the floor and you jump back to avoid it, colliding with a solid chest as you do so. Warm hands grip your shoulders, briefly stilling you before retracting.

“K-Kyungsoo?”

Your husband grabs hold of your palms, inspecting them carefully before turning them over. “You’re not hurt, right?” He questions softly, but he’s satisfied enough with his scrutiny to drop your hands. You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes. Your heart is thundering wildly in your chest, but you can’t tell if it’s from fright or from Kyungsoo’s proximity. “I’m fine. Sorry, I was just startled.”

Kyungsoo steps back but doesn’t stop watching you. “No, I’m sorry for scaring you. I just didn’t expect to see you in the kitchen this late.”

You pause in grabbing the dishtowel. _Late?_ It finally strikes you when you see the sky outside is pitch-black. Kyungsoo always returns from work after 10 PM, meaning you have been working well over half the day.

“I lost track of time,” you admit sheepishly as you wet the dishcloth and lay it over the mess. _That should make it easier to clean later. _“I was trying to make sakura jam for my brother, but nothing tastes quite right.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow, picking up the nearest bottle and sampling it. “Tastes fine to me,” he remarks, setting it down. You shake your head, glancing forlornly at the jam. “It shouldn’t be just ‘fine’. It needs to be exactly like this jam our housekeeper used to make. It was just the right amount of sweet and light, but everything is either too rich or not sweet enough.”

Your husband backs away, and you think he’s leaving you to it (_without a word, as well, jeez_), but instead, he just removes his jacket and lays it on the kitchen table. You watch uncomprehendingly as he loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves – later, you will congratulate yourself on not gaping at that sight – and stalks over to the jars. “So which combinations have you tried?”

* * *

Kyungsoo, as it turns out, is an excellent cook. He blazes through the contents of the cabinets, pulling out stuff you had never thought of. The powerful purpose to his movements is hypnotising to watch, and soon, you give up the pretence of helping in favour of watching him work. Once or twice, his hand brushes against you as he reaches for something, making you both shuffle awkwardly. But despite this, Kyungsoo’s first two batches are much better than yours, even if they’re not the exact taste you need.

But he nails the third batch. Your eyes widen when you taste some from the proffered spoon, letting out a low, appreciative hum. “Kyungsoo, this is perfect,” you murmur, awestruck. Nostalgia washes over you, taking you back to kicking Junmyeon under the dinner table and chasing him around on your short legs. You don’t miss the proud smile that spreads over Kyungsoo’s face, making the corner of his eyes crinkle.

Your heart protests at the injustice.

“I added strawberry preserve instead of fresh strawberries,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. You’ve noticed he does that often when he’s abashed. “I hope that makes up for scaring you earlier.”

You laugh, feeling tears prick the corner of your eyes. “It more than makes up for it. Thank you so much, Kyungsoo. It means a lot to me.”

Your sincerity throws him off, and he fumbles for a few seconds. “You’re welcome,” he mutters before grabbing up his jacket and tie and walking out the kitchen. You laugh under your breath and turn back to close the jar. But he’s back in the doorway a second later, an uncertainty flitting about his features.

“What’s your perfume?” He asks, much to your surprise.

“My...perfume?” You repeat, unsure if you heard him correctly. He nods, and you blink. “It’s Moroccan rose with white musk. It was a gift from my school roommate.”

“Right.” The utterance sounds…smug? Before you can question him, he’s disappeared again. The oddity of the query doesn’t leave your mind all night.

* * *

When Junmyeon tastes the jam, he almost bursts into tears.


	8. Your Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild swear warning ahead

Having grown up in the public eye, you know that all it takes is one mistake to destroy your image. One unsuspected recording. One unintended expression. One incriminating photograph. Your mother had taken great pains to drill this into her children; you had perfected your blankly sweet mask for the cameras even before you could walk. But even the best of masks crack.

Junmyeon’s cracks one March morning.

That morning, you awaken not to the sound of your alarm, but to your phone’s incessant ringing. It’s your family lawyer – _“Do not make any statement”_ – and you are climbing out of bed before you know it, shooting up the search engine to look up the news. The litany of ‘_please not Junmyeon’ _falls from your lips, aimed at any deity who will listen, but your prayers go unanswered. Plastered over your feed are the headlines you have been dreading all this time, accompanied by a photograph. Even though it is grainy and shot from a distance, it conveys all that needs to be conveyed – a hatless Junmyeon kissing Yixing against a lamppost, their faces thrown into relief by the lamplight.

Your hands shake in your lap, but your voice is steady when you call Minseok and ask him to bring out the car. Your phone continues to ring constantly, but you turn it off to focus on your toilette. Today, of all days, you cannot slip up on appearances. You are halfway through your makeup when Kyungsoo steps through the ajar door. (As you’ll note later, this is the first time he’s ever entered your room).

“I assume you’ve heard,” he says cautiously, watching you dab on your lipstick. You do not look at him, putting on your finishing touches and throwing your stuff into a purse, resembling a whirlwind as you move. You only stop short in front of Kyungsoo, facing him with a frighteningly calm expression. “I’m sorry my family’s causing you trouble.” Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, as if you are underwater. “We’ll sort it out, and if we can’t, we’ll pay for the damages.”

You slip past him, not seeing the hint of hurt bloom in his eyes.

* * *

“Did you know about this?”

Your mother’s question cracks through the silent room like a whip. Even so, you are almost grateful for it; in the half hour that has passed since you entered Junmyeon’s apartment, not a word has been exchanged. The icy fury on your parents’ faces, and the haunting devastation on your brother’s, had muted you. Even now, you raise your head to see that your parents’ rage has not abated in the least, and you pull yourself up ramrod straight to meet their eyes with equanimity.

“I did.” Your answer is chilly, something that clearly does not go well with your parents. Your mother’s jaw twitches as she leans forward. “And you didn’t think to inform us? About the fact that your brother is a liability? About how we’ll lose our entire company over him?”

Junmyeon shrinks at your side, and you put a reassuring hand on his knee, refusing to quail under the two glares on you. “Junmyeon is not a liability. You know exactly how much he’s done for the company, how much revenue he’s brought in as CEO-“

“And he’s going to run it all into the ground now!” Your father explodes, the veins in his forehead threatening to burst. “All because he couldn’t keep his hands off that pansy-cake Chinese boy!”

“Don’t talk that way about Yixing,” Junmyeon snarls, making you instinctively grab his arm to restrain him. But your father continues, heedless. “I don’t care if you want to fuck men. But you should’ve bloody done it in your house, not for the whole goddamn world to see! You think this is what we invested in you for? So you can destroy it all for us?”

Junmyeon crumples into himself, his brief burst of courage gone. His hands tremble as he buries his face into them, and it reminds you of how stable they were when you first wore high heels as a terrified eight year old, and Junmyeon held you gently while you stumbled through your first few steps. He had never let you fall.

“Get out.” Your voice isn’t loud, but it effectively shuts up your father. Junmyeon lifts his head, bloodshot eyes wide, while your mother harrumphs like a startled horse. “Both of you, get out.”

“What do you think you’re doing-“ your mother begins, but you cut her off coolly, standing up. “Do not make any press statements on his behalf. We’ll handle everything else. Just go.”

A deafening silence prevails as you face them off. A few beats pass, and then your father gets up. “If disinheriting my son is what it takes, I’ll do it,” he hisses, stalking out. Your mother pauses to sweep you both distasteful looks before following suit, the door banging behind her with enough force to rattle the pictures on the wall.

You turn back to crouch by your brother, who’s staring at you. The dark circles stand out on his pale face like bruises, and you reach out to smooth his hair back from his forehead. “It will be okay, Junmyeon. I promise it will.”

He lets out a hollow laugh which evaporates as suddenly as it comes. “They didn’t even ask me if I loved Yixing. They just care about their investment failing. That’s all we are to them.”

You pull him into your arms, and he doesn’t protest, wrapping his own around you. Hot tears hit your collarbone not even moments later, and your heart cracks a little bit more.

\---

Kyungsoo isn’t one to be distracted easily. Over the years, he had honed his powers of concentration to legendary levels, simply by being in the company of Baekhyun and Chanyeol. But today, focusing on his work seems like a Herculean task. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see you from this morning – unreadable, seemingly unaffected, if not for the tell-tale quiver of your hands. He knows how close you are to your brother, how deeply the articles must have affected you.

He tries to dismiss it, write it off as concern for himself and the backlash he will receive from associating with Junmyeon. Or even concern for Junmyeon, whom he is on amiable terms with. But deep down, he is perfectly aware that he is worried for you. And the realisation that he’s unwittingly grown to care for you so much makes him very uneasy. Especially considering the last time he cared this way for someone…

He yanks off his glasses irritatedly, rubbing his eyes. His first instinct upon seeing the articles had been to come find you, offer to help however he could. But you had set him back in his place instantly – _“We’ll pay for the damages” _– reminding him that this is a mere contract marriage. He shouldn’t be bothered by how you’re feeling at the moment.

The phone on his desk rings, and he sighs before picking it up. “Yes?”

“Mr. Do, Mrs. Do is on the line for you right now,” his secretary informs him, making him sit up straight. _Why are you calling him?_

A beep and you are patched through to him. Your voice is clear as always when you greet him. “Good morning, Kyungsoo. I’m sorry to disturb you at work.”

“It's fine.” _You’re not disturbing. _“Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually.” He hears you inhale deeply and frowns. Why would you hesitate? “I need some help about Junmyeon.”

He’s standing up before you have finished speaking, grabbing his coat. “Text me the address. I’m leaving now.” He’s about to put down the receiver when it clicks. “Wait, do you…have my phone number?”

Your answering ‘no’ is somewhat sheepish and he frowns. Have you two been taking the fake marriage too far? “Do you have a pen with you?”

* * *

Junmyeon’s penthouse is sleek and classy, much like its owner. Kyungsoo enters it to find the siblings on the couch, as well as two more men, all deep in conversation. You are the first to notice him, starting in your seat as if you hadn’t truly expected him to come.

“Ah, everyone, you may know my husband, Do Kyungsoo,” you introduce hastily, standing to join him. “Kyungsoo, meet Kim Doyoung, Junmyeon’s lawyer, and Yixing, his partner.”

Kyungsoo exchanges bows with them all, but his eyes dart back to you once the greetings are over. He can’t put his finger on it, but something is off about you. You give him that small, saddening smile that he knows you plaster on, before gently taking his arm. “Please continue your discussion. We’ll be right back.”

He allows you to guide him into the nearest room – a home gym – shutting the door before fixing you with a questioning look. “What help do you need?”

You lean against the treadmill, and it strikes him that the difference is in your posture. He has never once seen you slump or rest against anything. You must be thoroughly exhausted.

“Our parents will make Junmyeon step down as CEO…for damage control. They’ll make him publicly apologise for his ‘immoral behaviour’ and then send him and Yixing abroad so that everyone forgets about him. They’ll wipe him out so cleanly, it’ll be like he never existed. Because God forbid that their son’s happiness ever be of any importance.”

You’re breathing hard by now, your cheeks rapidly reddening. Kyungsoo suspects this is the most you have ever badmouthed your parents, if ever. He wants to comfort you, tell you he knows how difficult it is to stand up to those who control you. At the moment, though, you do not need sympathy, but a rock. So, he stands silently, waiting for you to continue.

“Junmyeon loves the company. He’s made it what it is. He shouldn’t be forced to step down like this. But more importantly, he shouldn’t have to act like what he did was shameful. We can't do much about articles and people's comments, but we can about his position. That’s why I- I was hoping you would back Junmyeon at the next shareholders’ meeting.”

_Ah._ Kyungsoo doesn’t show any outward signs of acquiescence or dissent, too caught up in the raw emotion in your voice. Your brows furrow, a more pleading note entering your voice. “Please, Kyungsoo. You own 12% of the shares. It would make a big difference. I know it’s not part of the contract, but we will compensate you on top of the damages-“

“There’s no need,” Kyungsoo cuts you off, fighting back the familiar sting of rejection. “If Junmyeon is going against your parents, I will support him.” _I’m your husband._

“Kyungsoo, I-“ you break off, and Kyungsoo’s stomach feels funny at the sincerity in your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, clasping his hands and squeezing them. It’s a fairly innocent gesture, but there is a quiet intimacy to it as he looks down at your upturned face, a real smile pulling at your lips this time. He coughs and steps away, breaking the moment.

“Do you have a PR team yet?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. When did the room become so hot?

“No, and we don’t want to use the company’s team, in case our father decides to interfere.”

“I’ll send over my best agent. And if there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

Your smile widens a touch more at that. “I’ll do that, Kyungsoo.”

Another time, another voice had chirped at him with a much bigger grin. _“I’ll do that, Mr. Do!” _But somehow, just somehow, his heart flops harder now.

* * *

Junmyeon’s heart is still heavy by the evening, but his shoulders feel lighter. When Kyungsoo indicates his departure, he follows the younger man to the door, grabbing his hand to shake it.

“Thank you so much for everything, man.” Kyungsoo just blinks owlishly at him, so he clarifies further. “She told me what you offered earlier. And you even stayed here to help. It means a lot to us.”

“It’s nothing.” As if involuntarily, Kyungsoo’s eyes slide over his shoulder to where you are standing with Yixing, chatting cheerfully. Junmyeon smiles fondly at the pair before realising that Kyungsoo is still transfixed, the corners of his mouth curling into a minuscule smile.

_Oh._

His day had just become a little bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, hope you're having fun reading this story! If you are, please leave kudos or comments- I'd really appreciate that!


	9. Thanks Where Due

The first Annual Tree Planting Drive by Do Enterprises takes place on a fine, cloudless morning. Ji Yeon Hee, secretary to Vice President Byun Baekhyun, totters into the designated field with some trepidation. Most of her co-workers have already arrived, milling around the area and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Yeon Hee greets a couple of them with her signature meekness before making a beeline for her best friend Ga-eun.

“What took you so long?” The girl demands without a preamble, yanking her away from the crowd by her elbow. Yeon Hee complies in confusion – as she always does when it comes to Ga-eun – and furrows her brows. “What-”

“Do’s wife is coming today,” Ga-eun hisses, eyeing the throng as if the woman could pop out of it at any moment. “Everyone’s going nuts because it’s the first time she’s showing up in front of the whole staff. So, you-” she emphasises, gripping Yeon Hee’s shoulders, “cannot lose your cool today. Especially to some icy bitch like her.”

Yeon Hee chews on her lower lip, glancing away guiltily. She hadn’t mentioned to Ga-eun that the two of you had met at the gala a couple of months ago – she knew how her friend would react. But she distinctly remembers how warm and kind you had been to the complete stranger in the bathroom, and musters up her courage. “She’s not an icy…”

“They’re here!” Ga-eun practically screeches as a staid black car rolls up at the edge of the field. The employees collectively fall silent, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the mistress of Do Enterprises. From the distance, they can’t see much except for the way Kyungsoo steps out first to offer his arm to you, and the way you continue to hold on to it while making your way towards the gathering.

Yeon Hee turns away.

You pause to shake hands with several employees, inclining your head in a dignified way that speaks to your status as the CEO’s wife without coming across as haughty. By the time you reach the mic stand in the middle of the field, Yeon Hee can tell that you’ve robbed the company of the chance to badmouth you the next day. Ga-eun is not one to give up so easily, though; she scoffs under her breath, crossing her arms. “God, look at that rich-people smile of hers. Of course Do had to go and marry a perfect doll-slash-robot like himself.”

“Just leave it, Ga-eun,” Yeon Hee mumbles, instantly feeling bad. She knows Ga-eun is simply trying to help in her own way, but it rankles her to criticise you when you’ve been nothing but nice to her.

Then again, that was before you knew Yeon Hee and Kyungsoo were in love with each other.

Sudden, sharp feedback emits from the microphone when Kyungsoo takes it up, making the crowd wince as one. Kyungsoo is the only one who remains unbothered, his charcoal eyes surveying the crowd. His gaze snags on Yeon Hee for just a split second too long before moving on.

“Good morning and welcome to our first Tree Planting Drive.” Kyungsoo has always been one to speak through silences and not words, which is why he keeps his speeches short. “This initiative was undertaken by my wife, so I’ll let her take over now.”

You laugh a little as you accept the proffered microphone. Yeon Hee doesn’t miss the look you flash your husband. “Good morning again, everyone. I’m so thankful to all of you for volunteering to be part of this. It’s wonderful to meet you all like this, while we all try to pay back a little bit of our human debt. Let’s do a great job today, everyone!”

There is a round of applause before people start scuttling towards the wheelbarrows with saplings and shovels. Yeon Hee adjusts her bandana and follows suit with Ga-eun, not daring another glance at the couple. It is all too easy to disappear into the mass of faded cotton everyone has donned for the day.

Just four more hours to go.

* * *

Two hours and twelve minutes in, Ji Yeon Hee is a panting mess. Even the cool spring breeze does nothing to relieve her, and she plops down on the ground by her latest sapling, wiping the beads of perspiration dotting her brow. Ga-eun clucks her tongue at the action. “Great, now you’ve got dirt all over your forehead. Take this.” She tosses over her handkerchief and Yeon Hee fumbles to catch it. Hardly has she lifted the cloth when she someone crouches down next to her, sweeping more soil to cover up the sapling’s roots.

“Hi, Ms. Yeon Hee,” you greet pleasantly as Yeon Hee stares back, wide-eyed. You still look immaculate, not a hair out of place or a streak of mud on your clothes, despite the fact that you had been working just as much as anyone else. Yeon Hee is sure that she looks like a mess in comparison, with her flushed, dirty face and gaping mouth. The back of her neck heats up as she crumples the handkerchief she’s holding.

“H-Hi, Mrs. Do,” she stammers out. Across from her, Ga-eun is glaring daggers at you, but you either do not notice or simply ignore it as you turn to her. “And you must be Ms. Ga-eun? Mr. Byun was telling me you’re the rising star in his team.”

You certainly have a way with words. Ga-eun blinks, her defences lowered. “Mr. Byun said that?” She asks cautiously and you nod. “He has a lot of energy himself, so he likes people who resonate with him.” The answer lights up Ga-eun’s face and the stiffness of her shoulders relaxes.

Yeon Hee wonders just how much training you underwent to be this charismatic.

You shift your attention back to her with your ever-present smile. “Ms. Yeon Hee, you look like you could use some water. Would you like to accompany me?” At that Ga-eun stills again warily, but Yeon Hee bites back her apprehension and stands up, brushing off her bottom. If you want to yell at her or warn her off her husband, she can take it. Kyungsoo had given her up a long time ago already.

The refreshments table is surprisingly devoid of people when you reach it. Yeon Hee snaps up a bottle of water and downs it hastily, if only to wash away some of her awkwardness. You remain unhurried in your movements, gaze fixed on a point in the distance. Yeon Hee follows it to realise that you’re watching Kyungsoo at the other end of the field.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” you say finally, glancing over at Yeon Hee. “I…have some idea of the feelings between you and Kyungsoo. He has told me no details, of course, but I can surmise. And I…I just wanted to thank you.”

_Thank me?_ Yeon Hee stares up at you in incredulity. Is it finally time to get her ears checked?

“At first, I thought I should apologise to you, for coming in the way of your- your love.” Your voice is shaky, and Yeon Hee is taken aback by this display of vulnerability. “But then this marriage wasn’t something either of us chose for ourselves. So, thank you. Kyungsoo is a good man, and he deserves to find love at least once in his life. It may not be in our marriage, but I’m glad he found it with you. I don’t hate you, and I hope you don’t hate me, either.”

You smile at Yeon Hee again, and it strikes her for the first time that no matter how bright your smile is, your eyes are always sad. The lump in her throat tightens, and tears spring to her eyes, unbidden. Pain bleeds into your expression at that, but the very next moment, your public mask slides back into place, like a chalkboard erased of all marks.

“Mrs. Do!” Baekhyun bounds up, filled with his limitless energy. “I see you’ve met Incheon gal. She’s my secretary, did you know?”

“I did. I’ve been trying to help all your victims today, Baekhyun,” you reply cheerily as if nothing had transpired in the past few minutes, even as Yeon Hee struggles to swallow her tears. Baekhyun’s mock outraged shout of “my victims?!” is too much for her, though; she mumbles something incoherent before making a dash for the portable toilets.

Across from the field, Kyungsoo watches her in concern, teeth gritted.

* * *

Kyungsoo is simmering with rage on the ride home. It took all his willpower to not simply snap at everyone earlier, and even now, he has to grit his teeth to avoid interrogating you in the car. You don’t make it easy for him, piping up occasionally with, “Did you like the programme today?” or “I’m surprised so many people turned up.” Eventually, though, you are clued into his frostiness and fall mercifully silent.

He ignores the looks Minseok throws him in the mirror.

The moment they are inside the foyer, though, he rounds on you. His eyes gleam dangerously, and you falter, clearing your throat. “Kyungsoo?”

“What did you say to her?” His voice low, filled with repressed anger and you take a step back. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of maids scatter, sensing the gravity of the situation.

You close your eyes, sighing. “I didn’t say anything that would hurt her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Kyungsoo’s jaw tightens. “I saw her. She was crying and running away from you. I don’t think you were talking to her about the weather. Just what the fuck did you say to her?”

You open your eyes, and Kyungsoo feels a punch to his chest when he sees they are bright with unshed tears. You still meet his gaze squarely, pulling yourself up the way you always do when trying to appear strong. “I thanked her for giving you the chance to experience love. That you deserve it, especially when you’re stuck in this marriage.” Without another word, you sweep past him.

He keeps standing alone in the foyer, staring at the spot you were in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step forwards and five steps backwards with their relationship~
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you're thinking, guys!


	10. Foolish Things

It is Yixing who first senses something off about you.

(Which, in itself, is astonishing, given his proclivity for obtuseness. Even more bewildering is how tactfully he extracts the truth from you. Yixing is definitely a music prodigy, but he might just be a genius, too.)

He demands an afternoon from you, and you don’t hesitate to grant it to him, even if it’s an unusual occurrence. You expect he wants to grab lunch with you, and maybe talk to you about Junmyeon, given all the troubles they’ve been facing lately. You and Yixing are not confidantes, but you consider him family, more so than those you share blood with.

What you do not expect is to be at a paint splash warehouse with him.

“I’m…supposed to throw paint at that?” You ask, gesturing dubiously at the long stretch of whitewashed wall in front of you. “For fun?”

Yixing nods blithely, dimples on full display. “It’s a great stress-buster. I come here every time I’m stuck with my music.” He certainly looks experienced as he deftly knots his plastic apron around his waist, tossing another at you.

You sigh ruefully at your neatly ironed blouse and skirt, knowing full well that the plastic apron can only cover so much. _If only he’d given you a heads-up_. “And how come I’m here today?”

“I figured we could both let loose a little. Junmyeon has that meeting today, otherwise I would’ve asked him to come, too,” he explains while unscrewing the lids of the paint cans at your feet. You’re still unconvinced that this will be the cure-all solution for your stress, but it can’t hurt to try. The past few days have been taking a toll on you. After your spat with Kyungsoo, your schedule has been altered to arrange minimal run-ins with him: you wake up in the wee hours of the morning to disappear to the tennis court, spend the day at Junmyeon’s office to help him strategise, and go to bed before Kyungsoo can return home. Not that any of this has unravelled the painful knot in your chest.

You secure your own apron and pull on your gloves.

“Okay, it’s pretty simple,” Yixing says, scooping some red paint into his cupped palm. “Pick up the paint and throw as hard as you can.” He leads by example, and scarlet blossoms on the white wall with a _splat_, resembling a bloodstain.

“Seems simple enough,” you murmur, picking up some green paint for yourself. It’s viscous and ugly, just like the hurt simmering in you, and you hurl it at the wall with all your strength. It makes an (admittedly satisfying) squelching sound as it lands.

Yixing raises his eyebrows at you. “You’ve got a strong arm,” he comments, sounding impressed. Your splash of green is far bigger than his red, prompting you to grin. “I played tennis remember?” Yixing is not one for fragile masculinity, however; he fist-bumps you cheerfully.

Despite your initial reservations, splash painting swiftly becomes the best activity you’ve ever done. You don’t even realise when you’re nearly screaming with laughter, darting around with Yixing as you both compete to cover your half of the wall before the other.

“How are you so fast?!” Yixing groans while doubling over with wheezes. You stop for a few gasps of your own, licking your dry lips. “I’m imagining Kyungsoo’s face on it,” you admit impishly, and Yixing chuckles, straightening. “Then I’ll imagine your parents over there.”

And just like that, the battle resumes with as much fervour for the next half hour. By the time the seemingly endless wall is covered, you both are collapsed on the cement floor, completely spent. You are certain that your clothes are ruined beyond repair, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you smile to yourself, still catching your breath.

A few minutes of silence pass before Yixing shifts onto his side.

“So, does Kyungsoo deserve to be against that wall in person, or was this enough?”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “I’d prefer if he was there in person,” you confess, stretching out your legs. “But I’m too biased a party to decide whether he deserves it or not.”

“I’m not,” Yixing remarks, his plastic gloves rustling as he peels them off. “Sure, you’re my sister-in-law and everything, but he’s still the one saving Junmyeon’s position.”

You scoff half-heartedly as you count the random paint splatters that have somehow found their way to the ceiling. “Kyungsoo is in love with someone else,” you finally say, because the paint splatters aren’t innumerable, unlike stars. “He told me that before our wedding, so that I wouldn’t have any…expectations…from our marriage. So, I kept my distance so that I wouldn’t make him uncomfortable.”

“Still, I thought lately that we were becoming closer.” Your mind flashes back to the gentle way he’d grabbed your hands in the kitchen, the way he’d smiled at you when you made him hot chocolate. The little ‘hello’s you’d started exchanging, the quick glances he’d steal at you when he thought you weren’t looking. “I thought maybe we could be friends. But then…there was this misunderstanding with the girl he loves. And he immediately assumed the worst of me and blew up at me.”

Yixing hums. “How long ago was this? Did you clear it up?”

You puff your cheeks to blow a raspberry. _When did your school-self come out like this?_ “It happened about a week ago. I told him everything that night itself, but he hasn’t even apologised.” Yixing fixes you with his sleepy gaze, and you relent a little. “Okay, I guess I’ve been avoiding him, so I haven’t given him the chance to apologise.”

“Junmyeon and I fight a lot more than he tells you,” Yixing says matter-of-factly. “And he’s usually the one at fault, so I make him sleep in the guest room. Once I’ve cooled off a bit, I unlock the bedroom door so he can come and say he’s sorry.”

“He comes because he loves you, Yixing,” you utter.

“And I let him come because I love him,” Yixing counters softly. His tone is laden with subtext, and when you face him, his eyes are unusually perceptive under the hooded lids. “Just like you love Kyungsoo.”

You curse internally, shifting yourself into a sitting position, ignoring your protesting limbs. Yixing does the same. “Am I wrong? You wouldn’t be this hurt if you didn’t care for him, you know.”

A defeated sigh leaves you. “I know. God, do I know, Yixing. It’s just that I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Stop avoiding him,” Yixing says with a shrug. “Unless he’s an absolute douchebag, I’m sure he feels bad and will approach you, if he hasn’t tried already.” Despite the extremely hurtful words he said that night, you know Kyungsoo isn’t a douchebag. At least, not completely.

“Oh, and stop pitying yourself,” Yixing adds as an afterthought. You blink at him in incredulity and he holds up his hands. “I mean, you say you love him, but you’re doing nothing about it. He’s lovesick, so he pushed you away, but you’re just wallowing. You’ve got your _entire_ lives together. Do you really think he won’t fall for you if you try?”

You stare at him for a long moment. “Who are you and what have you done with Yixing?”

Yixing flashes you his lazy smile, the unnerving shrewdness from earlier vanishing. “I can tell when someone needs a little shaking up.” He pushes himself to his feet before holding out his hand to you. “Let’s go now, the paint in your hair is already drying.”

* * *

A long bath and a cup of hot chocolate later, you find yourself ruminating over Yixing’s advice in your study. A pile of letters is stacked up on your desk – so busy have you been with Junmyeon’s scandal that you have been neglecting your charities and other social obligations. You fiddle absentmindedly with them. _Does Kyungsoo care for you? Is there hope yet for your marriage?_

Then the memory of that night replays in your head, Kyungsoo’s furious gaze boring into you, and the knot in your chest tightens. “Whatever,” you grumble under your breath, picking up the letters. There are too many of them, so the best course of action is for you to sort them based on urgency and then get around to answering them.

And if the process keeps your thoughts from straying to a certain man with a cruel tongue and a heartbreaking smile, you’re not complaining.

The very first envelope you come across makes your eyebrows shoot up. Elegant, cursive letters on creamy paper invite you to the wedding of Kim Jongdae on behalf of his family. You hadn’t the slightest inkling that he was even dating someone, let alone planning to marry. Then again, Jongdae has never been your friend, just a senior in school and a classmate of Junmyeon’s. The invitation must be an initiative of his brother.

Your ex-boyfriend, Kim Jongin.

Unsure what to make of it, you set the thick card down. Should you go? Knowing full well that Jongin will be at the ceremony? You hadn’t planned on crossing paths with him post your graduation, but saying you aren’t curious about him would be a lie. It might be a nice change to meet someone from your school days.

A sharp rap sounds on your door, yanking you out of your ponderance. “Come in,” you call out, tucking the card back inside the envelope. It must be Yuna – you recall her mentioning that she was bringing in her brother today and wanted him to meet you. You stand up with a smile, but the person who enters is not Yuna.

Kyungsoo pads inside, holding two mugs.

Your smile falters.

“What- what are you doing here?” You ask, unconsciously parroting his words from when you barged into his bedroom during his nightmare. Kyungsoo’s expression remains blank as he walks up to your desk and places one of the mugs on it. “I made some hot chocolate for you. Well, for both of us,” he amends. You miss the way he swallows uneasily.

“I had some earlier,” you reply reflexively, trying to tamp down on lance of pain that shoots through you at the sight of him. Kyungsoo’s face falls, something you’re completely unprepared for. A voice in your head (that eerily resembles Yixing) tuts at you in disappointment.

You pick up the mug. “Thanks for giving me an excuse to have more.” You take a sip of the drink and hate yourself for the way your heart stutters at the upturn of his lips.

“So…how come you’re back from work early?” You clear your throat, willing your heartbeat to return to normal. Kyungsoo’s eyes flicker. “You’ve been avoiding me, so I had to ambush you.”

An unbidden flush rises up your neck.

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says abruptly. You stare down into the depths of your mug as he continues. “I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did that night. It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions and accuse you like that.”

“You’re right. It was wrong of you,” you respond, but there is no heat to your words. Yixing was right – the splash painting had sucked the anger out of you. Kyungsoo, however, exhales heavily. You purse your lips, looking him directly in the eye. “But I forgive you. Love makes us all do foolish things.”

You aren’t sure if you’re talking about Kyungsoo or yourself.

You don’t expect him to call you out on it.

“Like what you’re doing now?” His voice is low. You blink at him, stomach flopping, but his expression is inscrutable. _Is it your imagination, or is he closer than he was earlier?_

“Hmm?” You question, depicting your incredible linguistic prowess as your tongue refuses to cooperate. Kyungsoo’s eyes seem impossibly darker, piercing into you, probing for the secrets you refuse to tell him. Your heart catches in your throat and you look away.

The moment breaks.

“Just, uh…don’t do it again,” you say lamely, busying yourself with the letters. You see him nod out of your peripheral vision. “I won’t. I promise.”

You throw a weak smile in his direction without making eye contact, and he takes it as his cue to leave. The door shuts behind him with a click, and you collapse in your chair.

* * *

Kyungsoo steps out into the hallway, wondering how it took him this long to realise you’re in love with him.

And why he just wants to go back in and see how far your blush travels when he ki-

_Shut it, Do Kyungsoo._

He downs his now-cold cup of cocoa in one go and stalks off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love guru Yixing is what I need in my life. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of the chapter! Things are heating up between Kyungsoo and the reader... :)


	11. The First Hug

“Go to bed, Junmyeon,” you coax your brother over the phone for the umpteenth time as you stand at your bedroom window. With the shareholders’ meeting mere hours away, your brother has been fretting incessantly. For the past fifteen minutes, you have been trying in vain to make him stop, praying for Yixing to return from his studio and force Junmyeon to sleep.

_“What if Director Gu backs out? We just barely managed to convince him to side with us. What if the arguments tomorrow make him change his mind? And even Director Choi, for that matter-“_

“Junmyeon,” you interrupt him firmly, “We’ve done everything we can. So, stop worrying about the stuff that’s out of your hands and get some rest. You have to be prepared for your address tomorrow.”

All you hear for the next minute is Junmyeon breathing. Just as you’re questioning if he’s fallen asleep after all, he speaks.

“_Maybe it really is better if I step down.” _His tone is subdued. “_I’m really not helping the company. Our stocks are still at an all-time low. The situation definitely isn’t going to improve if I stay in my position.”_

You close your eyes, resting your forehead against the glass pane. “Maybe it’ll improve, maybe it won’t. But this is about you making a stand. If you back down and apologise now, Junmyeon, you’ll be apologising all your life. All for something that isn’t wrong to begin with.”

“_I guess so,” _he concedes with a hint of reluctance in his voice. “_I’m still sorry about everything you’ve had to do. I’m your elder brother, but you’re the one helping me out.”_

You snort, straightening up. “Yeah, you couldn’t even help that one time when I needed your old calculus notes for my final year.”

“_Okay, how many times do I have to apologise for that? Sehun really needed them, and I gave you all my other notes…_” he protests, but your attention is diverted by the car rolling up your driveway. You squint at the unfamiliar model, curious if Kyungsoo brought someone over today, but the figure that steps out makes your body go cold.

“Junmyeon, let me call you back,” you mutter grimly, slipping your feet into the heels you had discarded earlier. “I have a guest over.”

* * *

The air in the living room is frigid when you guide your guest into it. You repress a shiver, taking a seat in front of the woman whose guileless eyes follow your every moment. A feather dropping would be audible at the moment, let alone a pin.

“Can I offer you something?” You keep your expression amiable.

“I’d love some jasmine tea,” Mrs. Do – Kyungsoo’s mother – says with equal composure. She is a small, petite woman, but commands attention like no one else can. The last time you met her was at your wedding, where she affixed your veil pin in the dressing room and patted your cheek with a – _“The best lies are the most beautiful ones, my dear_.” She ensured you sold that lie beautifully.

“Nothing like jasmine tea.” You smile blandly at her and gesture to Yuna, who gratefully dashes away to the kitchen, far from this unnerving setting.

“So, what brings you here this late?” You ask, even though you’re fairly certain you know.

Mrs. Do smiles warmly at you, but wastes no time cutting to the chase. “Tomorrow is the shareholders’ meeting for your family’s company, right? Where you and Kyungsoo will be supporting your brother to stay in position?”

You nod in affirmation. “I believe Junmyeon is still fit for the position. Kyungsoo agreed with me.”

“It’s so sweet to see how loyal you are to your brother,” Mrs. Do remarks with the most convincing sincerity. “Very heart-warming. But you’re still young, my dear. I don’t think you’ve thought this through properly.”

_Here it comes._

“By supporting your brother, you’ll be dooming your family’s business. And you’ll be taking Kyungsoo with you when he takes his stand. Even Junmyeon will be shattered when the company fails.” Her voice drips concern, and her huge, coal-black eyes – so much like her son’s – are beseeching.

“But it’s possible for everyone to win,” she continues. “Your parents have agreed to back Kyungsoo as the next CEO instead of your father. Junmyeon can take over one of the foreign branches until things settle down here enough for him to return. In return, we’ll waive the damage compensation in the contract. No one needs to lose.”

Your stomach flops when Mrs. Do finishes her proposition. You’d expected your parents to do their own scheming behind your backs, but this…

Yuna totters in then, tray held aloft. Her appearance is a welcome distraction, allowing you to gather your thoughts as she pours the tea out. Yuna glances at you, and when her back is turned to Mrs. Do, she gives you a little fist cheer and exits.

Your mother-in-law doesn’t even touch the cup, leaning across the table to place her hand on top of yours. “My dear, please think of it from my perspective. I’m simply worried about my son – your husband. He’s staking his reputation over your brother, and let’s face it – we can’t save Junmyeon anymore. Does my son deserve to suffer over this?”

Just as she intended, guilt washes over you. Did you take advantage of Kyungsoo’s generosity? Despite knowing that you’re being manipulated, you can’t help but doubt your decision.

Then something strikes you.

“In that case, why haven’t you asked Kyungsoo?”

Your question makes Mrs. Do pause, her fingers growing rigid around yours.

“You’ve asked him already,” you say slowly, watching her carefully. Mrs. Do is skilled in masking her emotions, but your training in observing human behaviour is not for nothing. “And he refused, didn’t he?”

“He’s not being particularly objective right now.” Mrs. Do clears her throat, withdrawing her hand. You interlace your fingers to deter any more touches like that. “You both aren’t. This is best for you two and your future children. Since your brother can’t have any kids with his…condition, this is the only way your company can stay in the family.”

_Condition. _The word leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’ve analysed the possible losses I might face, and they’re not nearly as much as you’re making them out to be,” Kyungsoo remarks coolly from the doorway. You gape at him as he strides into the room to stand behind you. His hands grasp the back of the couch on either side of you, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. You unconsciously lean into it.

“You only want this deal to go through so you can merge their company with ours and get three times more than the compensation they might owe you.” You cannot see his face, but his voice is hard. The guilt in your chest loosens, though. “Which is why I refused. Twice.”

Mrs. Do regards the two of you slowly, deliberately. You can see the gears spinning in her head, and it sickens you to your stomach – Kyungsoo deserves better than to just be a pawn for his mother. “Very well,” she concedes, standing up. “Whether you regret this later or not is none of my business.”

She sweeps out of the room. You follow to see her out, but Kyungsoo places a hand on your shoulder. “She can see herself out,” he says wearily, and you turn to face him. He drops his hand, and you’re suddenly aware that this is the first time you’ve been alone since The Study Incident. “She’s been showing up uninvited long enough.”

“Did she come to your office?” You guess, prompting him to sigh.

“Yeah, she just won’t drop the matter. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I thought it would worry you.”

You shake your head, eyeing his dark circles. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you even if you wanted to take the deal.”

Kyungsoo frowns at you. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

_A great one._

“You really are sure about this, right?” Your voice is heavy. Even if backs out now, you will understand. “You don’t owe me or Junmyeon anything. And it’s an excellent offer.”

“I’m sure,” he reiterates firmly. His reassurance is all you need to uproot the seed of doubt Mrs. Do had planted in your chest.

You nod, absently smoothing any flyaway hairs from your forehead. “In that case, I guess you should get to bed…”

“Wait,” Kyungsoo says abruptly, taking a step closer. At the sudden proximity, your stomach does a funny little somersault. “Do you want to have some hot chocolate? I…I think you could use some human company right now.”

Your lips tug upward in a small, genuine smile. “Hot chocolate sounds good.”

* * *

This is how you two end up in the kitchen well past midnight. The maids pull their disappearing act in order to give you some privacy. Kyungsoo busies himself at the stove while you take a seat at the kitchen table.

“So, how was work?” You ask, mostly out of politeness, but also to fill the quietude. Kyungsoo hums, back still turned to you.

“Not bad. We’re still working on the deal with Lee, but we should have the final draft by next Monday.”

“Sounds like a productive day.” You’re tracing the woodgrains on the table when you recall the date. “Oh, I guess you won’t have time this weekend, then.”

“What’s this weekend?” Kyungsoo glances over his shoulder at you. It is a cute sight- him in an apron with his brows furrowed and lips pulled into a soft pout.

“A wedding,” you reply, grinning involuntarily at Kyungsoo’s appearance. “A senior of mine from school is getting married. He was more of Junmyeon’s friend, but Junmyeon is meeting Yixing’s parents that day. I’ll have to go, since someone from the family needs to show up.”

Kyungsoo pours out the cocoa, his glasses adorably fogged up from the steam. “So, did you want me to come with you?” He questions slowly, focusing on not spilling the drinks as he brings them over.

“That’s okay. You’re swamped with work right now, and you’re already taking tomorrow morning off because of the meeting.”

He shakes his head. “No, you always come to my events. I should reciprocate.” He throws you a half-smile, pushing your mug across the table to you.

Unbidden, the memory of the last time he brought you hot chocolate dances in your head. A flush creeps up your neck and you hide behind the mug, praying for the redness to subside.

You wonder if you two will ever address the fact that you’re in love with him – and he knows.

Silence prevails as you both sip at your drinks. Every so often, you catch your husband peeking at you from the corner of his eye, but his inscrutable expression does nothing to explain his actions. It does not bode well for your endeavour to will your blush away.

Ten minutes later, you set down your now-empty cup. “Thank you for that, Kyungsoo,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “It was good to have some company.”

He merely nods as you stand to rinse the mugs. There is an awkward moment as the two of you linger without meeting eyes, Kyungsoo rubbing the back of his neck habitually. “So, uh…goodnight,” he mumbles.

“Goodnight,” you return faintly, turning to leave. A chilly breeze blows through the open window, and you shiver minutely, recalling the way Kyungsoo put his hands on either side of you on the couch in a show of support. Seized by an impulse, you spin around and engulf him in a hug, resting your chin on his shoulder. For a few moments, Kyungsoo remains immobile under you; you fear you’ve crossed a line and start to pull away when his own arms rise, encircling you and keeping you against his chest.

You expect your heart to go into overdrive, but it slows down. Everything slows down, until the world is just white noise, far removed from you. The past hour and its tensions melt away. All you can feel is protective warmth and calmness inside the cocoon of Kyungsoo’s embrace. He strokes your nape gently, almost hesitantly, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

_Foolish things, indeed._

* * *

Junmyeon wins against the petition to remove him as CEO by a margin of 3%. Your parents’ fury at the results is almost palpable, but you clearly don’t care as you hug your brother for all the cameras to see. It’s a public declaration of the estrangement of the Kim children from their parents – which, in Kyungsoo’s opinion, is for the best.

His gaze doesn’t stray from you as you talk under your breath with Junmyeon, transfixed by the way you light up at moments like this. You eventually notice him and beam, mouthing something at him, but Kyungsoo can’t comprehend it.

He’s busy falling in love a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all 7 of my readers, I hope you're enjoying the story! Please do leave comments and kudos - they really motivate me to write :)


	12. The Answer

_“Baekhyun’s ill? What happened?”_

“I think he has the flu,” Kyungsoo sighs as he paces the length of the hallway, phone held to his ear. Several employees scuttle by him, bowing their heads deferentially. “I forced him to go see a doctor.”

_“I hope he feels better soon. Should I go over to keep him company?” _You ask worriedly. Kyungsoo frowns at the idea of you nursing his friend.

“No, he’ll live. But I’ll probably be late for the wedding today, since I have to cover for Baekhyun, too. I’m really sorry about this. I’ll try to be there before the reception,” Kyungsoo intones over the call, rubbing his forehead in frustration. _Of all the days…_

_“Don’t worry about it, Kyungsoo. It’s just bad luck.”_ Your reply is devoid of any reproach, but he can sense your disappointment. _“You must be swamped right now, so I won’t take up more of your time. Just text me, if you can.”_

“I’ll do that,” Kyungsoo promises. He lingers on the line a second longer than necessary, listening to the swish of papers on your end. He can visualise you in your study, your hair coiled into a bun as you examine reports and invitations. It’s a pleasant, domestic sight.

“Mr. Do?” His secretary edges out of the boardroom into the hallway, and Kyungsoo hurriedly ends the call. “Is everything okay?”

Kyungsoo gives him a curt nod and brushes past him inside. The roomful of employees snaps to attention as he slides into his place at the head of the table. The chair to his right – Baekhyun’s rightful place – is empty, but Yeon Hee hovers behind it uncomfortably with a sheaf of documents. Kyungsoo avoids her gaze as she hands it to him and clears his throat.

“Let’s get this over with. I have somewhere to be with my wife.”

* * *

You alight from the car, feeling conspicuously alone as you survey the other guests milling around under the welcoming arch. Unlike your own wedding, Jongdae is holding his in a sweeping garden, filled with ample boughs of plum blossoms and strings of twinkling fairy lights. The evening sky is mellow, just right for a wedding.

You’re glancing around for an usher to greet you when someone taps your shoulder. Only one person has ever formed that habit with you, so you know instinctively just who it is.

“Hello, Jongin,” you chuckle without turning, and the man in question peeks around at you with a grin, his face inches from yours.

“Ooh, she knows my name? What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Jongin teases and you step back with a laugh, putting some distance between the two of you.

“I could ask you the same. What are you doing outside at your brother’s wedding?” It’s almost too easy to fall back into your playful banter, and the trepidation churning within you about seeing him melts away.

“Looking for you and your plus one,” Jongin admits easily, his grin never faltering. “I don’t see him though. Not that I’m complaining.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Kyungsoo got held up at work. He should be here for the reception.” You bite back a sigh at that; your desire to spend more time with him has only intensified lately, but he’s rarely around owing to his busy schedule.

Jongin hums, expression softening. “If he’s not, it’s his loss. You look beautiful tonight.” The sincere compliment amidst the harmless flirting catches you off-guard, but you tamp down on any signs of awkwardness before Jongin continues. “Definitely an improvement over that sweaty, homeless look you have when you play tennis.”

You scoff, the tension effectively dispelled. “Is this how you get girls to chase you? Give them backhanded compliments until they’re sufficiently confused?”

“You’ve got me all figured out.” He widens his eyes in feigned alarm before glancing at his watch. “Okay, I want to know how you’ve been and all that, but I have best man duties. I’ll catch you during the dances, yeah?”

He dashes off without waiting for your reply, pausing only to direct an usher your way. You watch him go with amusement, and the world feels like it starts back up again. Kim Jongin may be like a whirlwind when he’s on the periphery of your existence, but when you’re with him, it’s like the calm in the eye of the storm.

* * *

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch once you’re all seated. Kim Jongdae is at ease as he stands at the altar, conversing with Jongin. Your only memories of Jongdae from school are of him helping juniors sweetly or screaming at his friends, but you see a completely different side of him when the orchestra starts playing and the bride makes her entrance. Deep, abiding love suffuses his face as his bride walks down the aisle to him, her expression mirroring his. All around you, handkerchiefs are whipped out to dab at tears of joy.

The happy couple’s vows are timed perfectly against the setting sun behind them, throwing their figures into relief against the golden light. It’s a magical moment, and your heart wells with emotion. But a minuscule, selfish part of you can only think of your own, cold wedding between two people not in love and attended by people you did not love.

You don’t realise that you have lapsed into a pensive silence throughout the toasts. You catch a few of Jongin’s jokes during his speech, laughing at the appropriate pauses, but Kyungsoo’s absence next to you feels more meaningful than ever. Your keep your fingers curled around your phone, only in vain; it doesn’t buzz once.

_Stop being so self-centred, _you chide yourself, shoving the phone back into your clutch. _This is someone else’s happy day. And Kyungsoo’s life doesn’t revolve around you. _

(You can only hope you’re at least a part of it.)

You keep your practised smile in place as everyone moves to the dance floor for the newlyweds’ dance. True to his word, Jongin finds you not a minute later, sidling up to you with two flutes of champagne. You accept one from him gratefully, when Jongin leans down to peer into your face. “What’s got you fake-smiling?”

“I’m not,” you start to protest, but he levels a disparaging look at you.

“Don’t insult me by lying about it. I know you were spacing out earlier, too.”

You sigh, but shake your head. Jongin’s forthright approach to sensitive subjects has always been disarming for you, and you’ve often let your walls down with him before you know it. This, however, is not a conversation you think best for having with him.

“Congrats on pulling all this off,” you say instead, watching Jongdae twirl his giggling bride around. “It was a gorgeous evening.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, since they just wanted a simple spring wedding,” Jongin plays it off with a shrug, not calling you out on the change of topic. “I’ll definitely make Jongdae slave over mine.”

“How about you first find a girl that’ll tolerate you long enough, hmm?” You jab at him light-heartedly.

“Maybe I already have found one,” Jongin challenges you, meeting your eyes steadily. He towers over you – he’s grown even taller, it strikes you – and an unnameable emotion underlies his smirk. Your breath catches in your chest, and you’re unsure how many minutes pass as you stare at each other, trying to glean what the other is thinking.

Jongin breaks first, blinking jovially once again. You compose yourself as he holds out his free hand to you. “Would you like to dance, milady?”

“Stop being so smarmy,” you tut, wrinkling your nose, but acquiesce anyway. Depositing your glasses, Jongin leads you out to the dance floor, your hand still grasped gently in his. As the music fills the dusky evening, Jongin’s arm encircles your waist. His hold is respectful, yet, through force of habit, you cast an eye around the room to see if someone could misconstrue it.

“Relax,” Jongin murmurs, squeezing your hand. He’s the only one ever able to read the blankest of your expressions. “It’s a wedding, everyone’s dancing.”

“You’re right.” Driving away the intrusive doubts, you look up at him as he skilfully navigates you through the throng on the dance floor. “So, what have you been up to all these years? The last I heard, you were in Paris.”

“Mhmm….yeah, I was managing a couple of our foreign branches, but it got boring. Then Jongdae got engaged last year, so I used it as an excuse to come back. I’m kind of hurt you didn’t invite me to your wedding, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Really? You think that would’ve been a good idea?”

Jongin laughs, and you’re struck all over again by how charming he can be. “I mean, I could’ve been the one to shout, “I object!” It would’ve been a favour to you.”

“Jongin, come on,” you say reprovingly, but the effect is diluted by your upturned lips. Your partner does look appropriately chastised, though.

“Okay, that’s a bit too far. And don’t worry, I’m not still pining over you or anything.”

“Of course not. Everyone falls out of love,” you reply as he spins you around, ignoring the hypocrisy of your statement.

Jongin nods, however. “True,” he agrees, locking gazes with you. The realisation hits you a split second before he says it. “But I don't mind falling again.”

* * *

Kyungsoo’s internal monologue has devolved into an unintelligible stream of curses by the time he finally reaches the wedding venue. He didn’t even change out of his work suit in his hurry, but it is obvious from the stream of departing guests that he is too late. He exhales in annoyance, stepping out of the car while deciding how to make this up to you.

That’s when he catches sight of you, trailing out of the venue. Your hair is done up, exposing your shoulders to the cool evening air, and your cheeks are flushed. There is a faraway, lost look in your eyes, but it vanishes the moment you spot him. The smile that blooms on your face is that of someone who’s found an answer they were desperately seeking.

Whatever that answer is, Kyungsoo wants to be it.

You run up to him, unmindful of your dress and heels. Kyungsoo reaches out to steady you, but you rush into his arms first, assaulting him with the tantalising scent of your perfume. This time, however, his response is much faster; he wraps you in a hug, settling his chin on top of your head.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he whispers at the same time that you mumble, “Thank you for coming.”

You pull back after a few moments (much to his chagrin) and beam up at him with gratifying exuberance. “Let’s go home, Kyungsoo.”

'Home' sounds like the best thing he’s heard all day. Kyungsoo can’t help but smile at that.

He lifts his eyes from you, only to meet those of a tall man several feet away, watching intently. The two men stare at each other for a long moment, before the stranger tips an air hat to Kyungsoo with a melancholy smile. Kyungsoo looks back down at you and brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the much-awaited chapter! Do leave kudos and comments if you did!
> 
> This is not the last we'll be seeing of Jongin, btw :)
> 
> And I hope Jongdae's marriage brings him as much happiness as he's brought EXO-Ls all these years :')


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